Code of Honor
by meixel
Summary: Steve is gunned down while escorting a witness to trial.  Questioning his ability to protect his partner, Mike must put his emotions aside and find out who was behind the bloody attack.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n** Like so many ff writers, I like to experiment with different styles, ideas and themes. With "Code of Honor", I wanted to come back closer to canon. There are no created non-crime characters - just some h/c and angst for our boys. And there's Lenny, Rudy and some of the squad guys. The story features, as someone called it, a 'sustained maim'. (LOL) That maim was inspired by many, many stories and people with whom I've been fortunate to come in contact here.

There's also a character called Charlie Spagnozzi. He was most inspired by "Joe Cadillac" from the "Hardcastle and McCormick" series. Cadillac was a criminal, but he also had a code of honor by which he abided. He demonstrated this honor and ended up winning the grudging respect of the judge. Spagnozzi was also inspired by "Angus Ferguson" in "The Year of the Locusts".

Hope you enjoy the story. Reviews are welcome!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; none of this is for profit and all of it is for fun and skill development.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Steve Keller walked into the Bureau of Inspectors just shortly after eight am. His caseload was relatively light lately and the young man welcomed the novelty of a normal schedule. It allowed him to catch up on some much needed sleep and enjoy a bit of a social life. Last night, he was even able to have a complete dinner date with a young woman. The date was free of interruption from his boss and mentor, Lieutenant Mike Stone.

"Hey, Buddy boy, glad to see you made it in," the lieutenant jested lightly. He knew the workload over the past few months had taken a toll on his men and was also happy to have the respite.

"You remember, we're taking Charlie Spagnozzi over to the courthouse this morning for his testimony at the Livingston trial," Mike announced while standing in his doorway. "Spags is well known in the crime community, so keep your eyes open."

"You got it, Mike," Steve replied. "Spags, huh? Sounds like Spagnozzi is well known within the police community, too?"

"He's been racqueteering since before you were born and has a record as long as your arm," Mike paused for a moment and smiled. "But I'll say one thing for Spags: he's from the old school. He would never run the same cons that some of these guys are doing now. And he'd certainly never get involved in the drug trade."

"Why is he back in jail?"

"It was a parole violation. He got caught mingling with other ex-cons, so his parole officer pulled his ticket. He'll go back to San Quentin for another six months."

Steve nodded his understanding, "Are we going alone?"

"No, I've got a couple of uniforms lined up, too. We'll head over to the jailhouse to pick him up in about an hour." Mike looked down at the coffee pot that sat on a table outside his office. "Hey, I could do with some coffee, how about you?"

Steve took off his coat and squinted at the older man. "Let me guess…you have no cash on you, right?"

"Well, as a matter of fact," he stalled as he patted down his vest and pants pockets, "I guess I don't. Do you have some spare change?"

Steve smirked as he walked over to the collection tin for the coffee machine and dropped in two dimes. "I take it black."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

At the county jail, Mike and Steve met up with Officers Young and Foster. Stone signed out the prisoner and joined the others with Spags as they took a short uneventful walk from the front door to the car.

"Michael, it's always good to see you. How's that little girl of yours?" Spags inquired as they made their way down the sidewalk.

Steve raised his eyebrows at the question.

"Jeannie is not so little anymore. She's in college and doing well, Spags. How's your boy Peter doing? I heard he was considering the priesthood."

"Not only is he considering it, but he's in seminary - it's his second year. He's a good boy, that one. Not sure how he got his goodness with me as his father."

Mike smiled and caught Steve's questioning look. "We go back a long way," Mike whispered to Steve as they walked towards the car. "He's from the Potrero. He went to school with my older brother, Alex."

"Ah," Steve nodded.

"I'll tell you about it later." Mike replied, thinking that now was definitely not the optimal time to explain what it was like for a cop to grow up alongside of families involved in organized crime.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Steve drove the unmarked Ford LTD, while Mike sat in the front. Spags sat in the back, flanked by the two uniformed officers.

"You'll meet up with the prosecuting attorney this morning and then we expect the testimony to take about an hour. It could go longer with cross examination." Mike commented to the prisoner.

Spags was testifying against John and Marshall Livingston. The brothers had been laundering money from an illegal gambling operation. Normally, Spags would have turned a blind eye to such an activity, but the pair began dabbling in drug distribution. Members from an LA gang joined the brothers and innocent people had been killed, including a young man to whom Spags was especially close - his nephew, Danny.

"Danny was a good boy - almost as close to me as my own son. I want these two behind bars, Mike." Spags pleaded. The recollection of Danny's death quickly brought out the emotional side to older criminal.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Steve pulled the car into a reserved area near the side of the courthouse.

"There's a special entrance here," Mike commented. "We'll get you in quickly and then you'll be in the courtroom."

Mike, Steve and the two uniformed officers gathered around Spags and began walking him toward the steps of the side entrance.

Suddenly two gunshots rang out. Mike and Steve pulled Spags down to the ground while Officers Young and Foster reached for their weapons. From their trained ears, the officers figured that the shots occurred at the front of the courthouse. Young turned to Mike, asking for permission to run to the street front and check out the scene.

Mike waved the officer ahead. "Radio me and let me know what's going on?" Mike said, referring to the walkie talkie he was carrying.

The detectives and Officer Foster reached over and pulled Spags up from the ground. The older man was unhurt, but nevertheless, experiencing difficulty in standing steadily after such a quick shock.

Once again, the men made their way to the courthouse side entrance. A middle aged man came through the door with his coat draped over his arms and began descending the stairs. Steve felt the hair on the back of his neck raise and looked closer at the man. He quickly noticed a glint of metal from under the coat.

"Hit it!" he yelled as he quickly turned to his left to push Spags free from the gunman's aim.

In a split second, the stranger discharged three bullets. The first hit Steve in the side. The searing pain was debilitating, but somehow he found the wherewithal to face his assailant. In reflex, Steve spun back around and tried to pull his gun from his holster. He was struck by a second bullet. The young detective attempted to remain upright, but his knees buckled under him.

A third bullet hit Spags. The older man spun and fell to the ground.

Mike and Foster pulled their weapons, but the attacker already reaimed his gun to Foster. The young rookie was wide-eyed with fear. He shot the young officer in the hand, sending his weapon flying. Quickly, the man grabbed Foster around the neck and pulled him back.

"Stay right there, Stone. That old man is not worth it to you," the attacker said as he looked at the heap lying face down at the foot of the steps.

Mike watched as the stranger dragged Foster around the corner. He tried in vain to figure out a way to stop the assailant, but was unable to get in a shot without endangering the young officer. As soon as the pair rounded the corner, the attacker pitched the young officer forward and fled. Foster lay stunned as he held his bleeding hand.

Mike turned and heard Spags moaning. "I'm hit," he announced breathlessly. "It's not bad, though. Your young partner saved me."

The men looked over to the fallen detective. Steve lay unresponsive on his back - the blood pooling near his side and his shoulder where the bullets struck. The men were terrified to see a third pool of blood under his head where he fell against the sidewalk.

"Steve!" Mike said under his breath as he made his way over to his partner. Officer Young came back around from the front. "Call an ambulance," Mike shouted. "Quickly!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Clearly I'm being influenced by Emergency fan fic. At least I didn't name the ambulance attendants Gage and Desoto. ;)

Mike hovered over his young partner. He checked both bullet wounds and found that the injury to his side was worse. Steve was standing sideways to the gunman and if the bullet took a direct path from the point of entry, Mike reasoned there could be very severe internal injuries.

The bleeding from the shoulder wound was not nearly as severe. Mike thought that the bullet bypassed any major artery. Mike checked Steve's carotid pulse and noticed it was racing.

From there, the detective examined Steve's head injury. It was clear that when Steve fell, he hit his head on the edge of the sidewalk. The bleeding was substantial.

"Mike," Spags called over somewhat out of breath. "You need to put something under his head. It looks bad. Perhaps he has a skull fracture. The hard concrete isn't helping."

"Yeah," Mike said completely distracted. He looked around and saw one of the attorney's from the DA's office standing nearby. "Arnie…"

"Mike, help is on the way," the attorney responded gently. "What can I do in the meantime?"

"Can I have your scarf?" Mike said, referring to the scarf that was draped around Arnie's neck and tucked neatly under his coat collar.

"Sure thing, here." He handed the scarf to Mike who attempted to fold it into makeshift padding. "Here, let me…" Arnie offered.

Arnie folded the scarf and carefully placed it under the injured detective's head. "I'm sorry, Mike. I'll keep Steve in my prayers."

"Thanks," the older detective replied with a catch in his voice.

Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived. Two attendants wheeled the first stretcher over to the crime scene. "We have three injured, but this man is the most serious," Mike directed. "He's a police detective." While it never made any difference in terms of level of care, it was still good to know of whom they were treating.

The attendants both nodded their understanding as they bent down to assess Steve's condition. The scarf that Arnie placed under Steve's head was soaked through with the officer's blood.

"There are two others," he pointed to Spags. "He took a bullet to the arm and then fell hard." Mike looked around for Foster. "Where's Foster?"

Young replied. "I have him, Lieutenant. I'll get him over to the hospital."

Mike nodded. Mike would later replay the shooting scene repeatedly in his mind to figure out how things could have turned so horribly wrong. But for the moment, his attention and concern was focused on the three men injured, especially his partner.

Mike followed Steve's stretcher over to the ambulance. Spags was not far behind. "He's my partner. May I ride with him?"

"Absolutely, sir." replied one of the attendants. It would be a tight fit with two on stretchers and Mike sitting in, but he wanted to be with Steve the whole way.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

The ambulance attendant radioed the local hospital to report the status of both injured men.

"St John's, we're transporting two shooting victims. Victim #1 is a police officer. Approximate age, mid to late twenties. He has bullet wounds to the side and shoulder, plus a possible skull fracture. He is bleeding from the head and unconscious. His pupils are dilated."

Mike could hear the hospital answer back. "Please proceed with vital signs."

"Pulse is 140. BP is 85 over 65. Respiration is shallow."

"Go ahead and start an IV," the hospital replied.

"Roger." Mike watched the ambulance attendant start an IV in Steve's limp arm. A fear ran through Mike as he realized that Steve's pressure was too low.

"Go ahead with Victim #2 when you are ready," the hospital responded.

"Roger. Victim #2 is a man, approximate age sixty. He has a bullet wound to the arm. He is alert and complaining of soreness in his hip and tailbone area."

"Immobilize the victim. What are his vitals?"

"Pulse is 120. BP is 130 over 100."

"Go ahead and start an IV for Victim #2."

The attendant did as he was told. The ambulance pulled up to the ER entrance ten minutes later.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

"Mike," Rudy greeted the older detective who had been pacing the surgical waiting room for nearly an hour. "I came as soon as I heard about the shooting. What the hell happened? And how is Steve?"

"He's in bad shape, Rudy. I was with him in the ER and then they rushed him into surgery. He was hit twice and more than likely has a skull fracture."

"But how?"

"A shooter appeared at the steps of the side entrance and blasted away. He was going after Charlie Spagnozzi. He got him, too."

"Is Spagnozzi dead?"

"No. He took a hit in the arm. It was probably the fall that did the most damage. He's in surgery for the bullet wound. The other thing the docs were trying to do was figure if he broke his hip or tailbone."

"Do you have a description of the shooter?"

"Yes, I got a good look at him. He knew me by name, but I didn't recognize him."

"Probably a hired gun," Rudy offered.

"That's what I figure. You know, I think the shooter thought he killed Spags."

"Interesting. I heard one of the uniformed guys was hit. Who was it?"

"It was Foster. He was hit in the hand, but it was just a crease. It was enough to knock the gun out of his grip. He's still in the ER."

"It's puzzling that the shooter was okay with you seeing him and didn't kill Foster. Yet, he went after Steve pretty hard and of course was trying to take out Spagnozzi."

"Steve knocked Spags out of the way. The two bullets he took were meant for Charlie," Mike replied. "I think the hit was directed at Spags and there was no intention of taking anyone else out."

"One of Livingston's men?" Rudy asked.

"Probably likely, but it could be anyone. Spags has made quite a few enemies through the years."

Mike returned to his pacing. "How long is this going to take?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Easy, Mike. If Steve has internal injuries, the surgery could take hours. That would be completely normal," Rudy tried to console.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Five hours later, the surgeon appeared in the waiting room. "Is someone here for Steve Keller?"

Mike turned quickly as Rudy stood. "We are. Doc, is Steve going to be okay?"

"I won't sugar coat this, officers. It's very serious. He lost substantial blood and has sustained severe injuries internally and a skull fracture."

"Will he make it?" Rudy asked.

The doctor replied, "Let me put it this way: the next twenty four hours will be critical."


	3. Chapter 3

Mike and Rudy stood stunned for a moment. The surgeon broke the silence. "Does he have any close relatives?" The surgeon assumed the two detectives would pepper him with questions, but was surprised by the relative silence.

Rudy looked to Mike, who shook his head, "No."

After a beat, Mike drew a breath. "May we see him?" Mike asked quietly.

"He's in recovery now and he'll be there for some time. He's not regained consciousness yet, so we're not sure to what extent there may be brain damage. There's not much you can do for him now. But later on this evening, he'll be moved to ICU. Perhaps you can see him then."

"Brain damage?" the words stung as Mike uttered them. Rudy put a hand on his shoulder and took a quick glance up to the ceiling.

"Mr. Keller has a hairline skull fracture. The fracture was the source of uncharacteristically high intracranial pressure or brain swellling. We took measures to increase his oxygen and blood pressure levels which should slow the swelling considerably. We also inserted a catheter to drain the fluid that was building. It's difficult to say if there was any permanent damage at this point."

"Good Lord," Rudy exclaimed.

The surgeon sensed the concern with both men. Realizing that his current bedside tactic gave little hope, he added, "There's a possibility that there's no damage, too," the surgeon looked at his watch. "I have another surgery scheduled, so I'll need to leave you. Do you have any other questions?"

"No," Mike said sadly. "Thank you."

Rudy looked over to Mike as the surgeon walked away. "Mike, there's nothing we can do right now. Steve's in good hands in the recovery area. Let's see how Charlie is doing."

More than anything, Rudy wanted Mike to take a break. He thought that by taking him over to see Spags, it would be at least a change from the surgical waiting room. Perhaps he could talk Mike into grabbing a bite at the cafeteria.

"I don't know, Rudy. Steve has no one in case there's a problem. What if something happens?"

"I don't think that anything will happen, but if it does, we won't be far. Let's go tell the recovery room nurse where we'll be."

"Okay, you're right," Mike conceded. He put his hand behind his neck and tried rubbing his own fatigue away.

"I'll also make some calls, Mike. I'll contact the judge who is presiding over the Livingston trial to see what's going on there. I've got Tanner and Lessing following up on the details of the shooting, so I'll touch base with them, too." Rudy slapped Mike on the back. "It will be all right, Mike. He's a tough kid."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

"Spags," Rudy exclaimed. "How are you doing?"

"I've been hurt worse, Captain. Nothing's broken, but I'll be sore for some time."

"Well, I guess you're right - it could have been worse. I'm having a guard posted outside of your room, by the way," Rudy added. He wanted to assure Spags that he was being protected, although it would be standard procedure anyway for a guard to be posted in front of any prisoner's hospital room.

"How's that young man?" Spags was afraid to ask, but truly wanted to know how the young man who saved his life was doing.

"Not well," Mike replied sadly. "You saw the injuries. He was in surgery for six hours. He hasn't regained consciousness yet."

"I'm so sorry, Mike. I don't know him well, but it's a damned shame. Reminds me a bit of my Danny."

"Charlie, did you recognize the trigger man?" Rudy asked.

The older man shook his head. "No, not at all. I've been around long enough that I know most of the professional types that would try a hit like that. Must either be new or out of town."

"Besides the Livingston case, is there anything else you are involved in that would cause someone to put out a contract on you?" Mike asked.

Spags thought for a moment. "I've made a load of enemies in my life, Mike. Someone could come after me at any given point, so I can't be absolutely sure. But as far as recent problems, there's been nothing else. Hell, the only reason I'm going back to the pen is that I hired a parolee into my operation. Didn't even realize it was a problem."

Rudy smirked, "What kind of operation did you hire him into?"

"It was strictly, legit, Cap. Strictly legit." Spags returned the smile.

Mike's face remained emotionless.

Spags noted how somber his long time acquaintance was and continued. "One of your guys came in and got a description, so perhaps they can get something going."

"They got Mike's description, too," Rudy acknowledged. "We'll put Livingston's operation under surveillance and see if we can pull anyone that matches the description," Rudy replied. He looked over to Mike. "The guy had to have had a partner - someone to drive the getaway car."

Mike walked over to the window and looked out. "Whomever he was working with also provided a distraction. Whichever entrance we went in, the other guy was going to cause a distraction on the other side of the building."

"I think you are right," Rudy agreed. He tried to show some reassurance to Mike. "I've got some guys out there now scouring the courthouse and the area. If we can find a second man involved or get a make and model of the car they were in, we'll have a chance at pinning this down."

"Whoever did this to Steve, I want them. I want them bad!" The anger had been simmering within Mike for hours and now was about to break open. "He took this hit straight on. Damn it!" He slapped his hand hard on the hospital tray table.

Spags interrupted. "He took this hit for me. He put himself between me and a couple of bullets with my name on them. Don't think I don't know that, Mike." Spags studied the older detective hard. "Mike, you and I have known each other for decades. We haven't been on the same side of the law very often, but what your boy did for me is something I'm not going to forget. We'll figure this out, Mike, and this will be taken care of."

"I appreciate that, Spags. You will let the law take care of this, right?"

"Oh, of course, Mike, of course."


	4. Chapter 4

_"A police officer and a witness set to testify today in the Livingston murder and money laundering trial were gunned down in cold blood outside the city courthouse. Witnesses say the gunman, who is in his forties and of average height and stocky build with dark, brown hair, fled the scene. _

_According to others at the courthouse, gunshots were heard nearby only seconds before the shooting, leading authorities to believe that the incidents could be related. If anyone has any information on today's shooting, please contact the police directly._

_Names of the deceased are being withheld pending notification of family."_

Greg Harmon turned off the evening news. "Half down on deposit and half when the job is complete," he remarked to Martha Livingston, a tall, thin widow nearing seventy.

"I'm quite aware of our agreement, Mr. Harmon. But Mr. Spagnozzi should have been the only one killed and now you have murdered a police officer. That was not part of our arrangement," the elderly woman berated the gunman.

"Look, lady, the cop got in the way. It wasn't my fault that he did that. Now, pay me the other half and I'll get out of your hair."

"The police will be all over this case now that there's something more at stake than a two-bit lifetime hoodlum. You need to make yourself scarce immediately."

"I need you to give me my money now and you'll never see me again," Harmon replied.

"Very well," she said as she walked over to the mahoganey desk. The elderly woman's home was richly appointed. She pulled out a bankers pouch with twenty thousand dollars in small bills and handed to the gunman.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Mike made his way back over to the intensive care unit where Steve had been moved hours earlier. Rudy returned to the station to check up on the progress being made to capture the shooter.

Rudy had also been in on the decision to keep the fact that both Steve and Charlie Spagnozzi had survived the shooting under wraps. Both men were now under aliases at the hospital for not only their protection but also to throw the would-be killers a curve ball.

Mike approached the nurses desk. "May I see Mr. Collins?" he inquired quietly.

"Are you Mike Stone?"

"Yes."

"Then, of course. We were alerted that you would be here this evening by Dr. Murchison."

"Lenny?"

"Yes," the nurse smiled. "Come on, then. I'll take you to him."

The intensive care area was noisy only because of the sounds of various machines working on the many patients who were admitted to the area. What talking Mike could hear sounded more like whispers.

As the nurse escorted Mike through the curtained units, Mike couldn't help but envision what shape his partner would be in. He tried not to imagine the worst, although if he did, perhaps anything would be an improvement. He closed his eyes briefly at the thought.

After walking past three partitions, the nurse pulled back the curtain to Steve's unit.

Steve lie resting peacefully. He had an oxygen mask and various IV's to keep him hydrated, fed and medicated. Mike saw a large bandage on his shoulder wrapped securely around his chest. Another swath of bandages encircled his head leaving chunks of hair peeking out askew. The injury to his side was hidden by a blanket.

"Is he sleeping or is he in a coma?" Mike asked gingerly.

"He woke up briefly in the recovery area. That's when we moved him down here. So the answer is he's sleeping, but in a very deep sleep."

Mike nodded.

"You and I should be that lucky when we sleep," the nurse joked lightly.

"Yes," Mike smiled ever so slightly.

"You can sit with him for fifteen minutes at a time no more than once an hour. After that, you may certainly leave to go home or you could spend your time in the ICU waiting room."

"Okay, I'll sit with him. And I'll keep quiet."

"You can talk. Talking keeps the patients connected. With head injuries, the more connected they are the better the recovery will go."

"Do you know if he has any brain damage?"

"We don't know yet; but it was a good sign that he woke up in the recovery room. I'll leave you two alone for a while. If there's anything you need, please contact us by pressing the nurses button."

Mike brought up a chair to sit near the side opposite his injured shoulder. He looked over to the machines monitoring his vitals. His blood pressure was higher than in the ambulance, which was good. His pulse rate was still a little high, but he looked settled and not as pale as he anticipated.

Mike reached to touch his arm, "Buddy boy, it's me."

Steve gave no response, but Mike noted how warm his skin felt and decided to leave his hand on his forearm for the time being. "You've given us a pretty good scare, young man. But you saved Spags today. You saved the witness and you did good. I'm proud of you."

Mike paused a moment, looking at his eyes to see if there was any fluttering. There was none. Mike sat back and rested his hands in his lap. He closed his eyes in meditative thought and sat for several minutes.

The time flew as the nurse returned, "Mr. Stone, it's about time to leave."

"See there," Mike turned to Steve. "She's running me out so she can have you all to herself," he tried to make a joke.

"You take it easy, buddy boy. I'll be outside. I don't want you to worry. If there's anything you need, there'll be plenty of people including me who will be looking after you." He placed his hand again on his forearm and squeezed.

"He feels warm, even warmer than when I first came in," he said to the nurse.

The nurse came over. "Yes, it looks like his temperature is a little higher. Still low grade, but I'll make a note of it and let the doctor know when he comes around."

"That's sounds good. I'll be outside in the waiting room. I can come back, when? Another forty five minutes from now?"

"Yes, sir. That'd be fine."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Forty five minutes later, like clockwork, Mike went back into the ICU. He walked passed the nurses station and nodded to the nurse who was taking care of Steve.

"Mr. Stone, the doctor is in with him now."

"Should I wait until he's done?"

"No, you can go on in. If you have any questions for him, please feel free to ask."

Mike walked the path to Steve's partition and poked his head through the curtain.

"Is it okay if I come in?" he asked politely.

"Yes, certainly," the doctor replied. "I have a couple of questions for you anyway."

Mike walked through the curtain and saw that Steve was awake. The stress of discomfort showed heavily on his face.

"Hey, welcome back," Mike said gently and patted his young partner on the arm. He noticed that he was even warmer now. The fever could no longer be classified as low grade.

Steve barely acknowledged the older man and instead winced in pain.

The doctor turned to Mike, "He woke up while I was on rounds and complained of pain. I checked his injuries and saw inflammation where the bullet struck his side."

Mike added, "His fever worries me, doctor. I think it seems worse than it did an hour ago."

"Yes, we definitely need to get him on some antibiotics. Do you know if he has any drug allergies or reactions?"

"None that I'm aware of."

"I've asked him, but he's not quite coherent yet. I'd like to put him on some penicillin, but would feel better about it if I knew his history. Does he have any family members we could ask or perhaps it's in his medical records at work."

"No family, but I'm wondering if we could call Dr. Murchison and he could access the medical records in his work file?"

"Good idea," the doctor replied. "I really would like to get this infection treated before it gets out of hand. I'll have the nurse call Dr. Murchison and see what we can find out. If he's all clear, then we'll go ahead and start him on the medication. It shouldn't take long."

Mike refocused his attention to Steve as the doctor exited the ICU partition. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Steve's eyes looked unfocused, but he responded slowly, "Mike…".

"That's right, it's me. I'll be right here for you and don't you forget it!"


	5. Chapter 5

The ICU doctor returned several minutes later. "Dr. Murchison is having the medical records for Mr. Keller pulled and delivered. Clearly, it won't be definitive, but we should have at least something to go on in just a few minutes. I'll be back as soon as I hear."

"I don't think Steve is going anywhere and I can stay as well," Mike joked slightly.

"Thanks - it shouldn't be too long. I'll send the nurse in to check on him as well."

Steve was trying to remain calm and not react to the pain building in his lower back, but it was becoming impossible. His fever was increasing. The oxygen mask was now a source of annoyance and he was simply miserable. The young man winced as he tried to situate himself differently in the bed.

Mike reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "Hang on, Buddy boy, help is on the way."

Steve's breathing was becoming rapid. "Hurts," he commented through the mask in a single word as he continued to fidget. For his partner to ever admit he was unwell was rare, Mike thought. For him to admit that he was hurting was unheard of.

"I know." Mike felt completely helpless. "They are checking your records to see if you've had problems with antibiotics in the past, but they should be giving you something for the pain no matter what. I can go check if you want."

Steve nodded. Generally, he would put up a brave front, but this time he wanted relief fast. He appreciated Mike being there to help.

It seemed like an interminable wait, but the doctor returned several minutes later with Mike following behind. "Well, Steve, we are able to give you the antibiotic. There's apparently no history of reactions, but there's also no history of you having the drug. So we'll watch you to make sure it goes okay."

"Can you give him something for the pain, too?" Mike asked. "It's getting worse for him."

"Let me check," he said as he reached for Steve's chart. "We can do a bit more by tapping into the next round of pain killers. I can't overdo it because of the head injury."

The doctor continued to read his chart and contemplated. "If the pain from his side continues, we'll need to take him back up to x-ray and see if there's not something else going on. The bullet grazed his kidney before exiting out his back so we may need to make sure there's not a complication."

The nurse came in with a syringe for the pain and an antibiotic bag to be added to the IV. Within minutes the two drugs were administered. The combination of the antibiotic and painkiller was indeed calming to the young officer. "Can you continue to stay in here with him for at least the next fifteen minutes?" the doctor asked Mike.

"I certainly can."

"Thanks. That's helpful. I still have a few other patients I need to check, so if there's any problem at all, you let us know."

As the doctor and nurse left, Mike sat back down next to Steve. "You doing okay?"

"Pain is better," Steve commented slowly, but deliberately. Mike was happy to see Steve put together more than a word or two.

About a minute later, the young man began coughing. At first it sounded more like he was clearing his throat, but then the coughs became more frequent.

"What's going on, Steve? What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"Hard…to…breath…," he said between coughs. The coughs were quickly intensifying. Mike reached for the nurse's button and pressed hard several times.

Steve put his free hand up to his throat as his face began to turn red. By reflex, he pulled off the oxygen mask since it was doing no good.

"I'm getting help!" Mike turned quickly. He hated leaving the young man alone, but knew that he needed to get the nurse or doctor as quickly as possible. He flipped the ICU curtain back and yelled out, "We need help - QUICKLY! He's had a reaction to…" and before he could finish his sentence, the doctor returned.

"She's getting the epinephrine!" the doctor and seconds later, the nurse returned with the vial.

"Sir, you may want to leave," the nurse advised.

"Not a chance."

The nurse and doctor pulled the sheet aside and exposed Steve's leg. The doctor quickly injected the drug by thrusting the epinephrine pen into his thigh. Steve was oblivious to the injection.

The doctor felt Steve's throat and realized that the swelling continued to be significant and that he was still unable to breathe. Time was now very critical. "Let's try another vial of epinephrine. Standby for a tracheotomy, just in case."

The nurse hurried for a second vial and returned. A second nurse arrived with the tracheotomy equipment. At this point, Steve was beginning to lose consciousness. The doctor thrust the second vial into his thigh and waited a few seconds. Steve gasped and took in some air.

"I'm seeing some improvement, but I don't like what's happened, We shouldn't need to do the tracheotomy, but I do want to intubate him at least for a while. Let's see how easily the breathing tube will go down."

Mike watched these events unfold in horror. He heard Steve gasping for air, and while that meant some air was finally getting into his lungs, he shuddered at the sound. But the thought of the doctor forcing a tube down his throat was too much for him to bear. He could imagine how frightening and uncomfortable that would be, yet it was absolutely necessary. Mike turned and walked out of the ICU partition and took a spot in the hallway nearby.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Charlie Spagnozzi called his brother on the hospital phone. "Yeah, I'm okay, Vic, but you can't tell anybody, you hear? I'm not even supposed to be talking on the phone," Spags commented. "The cops are making it look like the guy killed both me and Stone's partner."

Spags listened to his brother on the other end of the line. "Yeah, that Stone. Alex's younger brother."

Vic asked for more details.

"A young guy - about Danny's age. He took a couple of slugs for old Charlie here and he's in pretty bad shape from what I've been told. Look, you need to find out who's is behind this. I figure it's got to do with the Livingston's. That old hag has had it in for me for some time."

Spags could hear the voice on the other end increase in volume - after all, it was his son that was killed by the Livingston brothers. "Those bastards killed Danny and they tried to take me out. We need to take care of this."

"Yeah, I knew you would. See what you can find out and get back to me. Yeah, I'm here under the name of Charlie Smith. Real original, huh? Look, get back to me, okay?" Charlie hung up the phone.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

The doctor left Steve's partition and found Mike in the hallway.

"Well, that was a close call," the doctor admitted.

"I have a hard time believing what I just saw. He could have died!" Mike's anger was nearing the surface.

"Yes, unfortunately, he was in anaphylactic shock. It's extremely rare." The doctor was a kind man who felt quite a bit of compassion for all of his patients.

"Why give him those antibiotics if there was that chance?" Mike countered.

"The odds are extremely low for that to happen. But he needs a strong antibiotic and the penicillin family is the most effective. With us having to rule out that group of antibiotics, we'll need to rely to something weaker. If that infection becomes systemic, he'll be in serious trouble."

"What do you mean, doctor?"

"I mean, he's not out of the woods yet. We'll be monitoring him very closely."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Next Morning**

Mike was feeling his years as he walked through the hallway of the police station. It had been a long night, but he felt obligated and determined to make progress on identifying and capturing the shooter. Rudy saw him slowly approaching with a somber look.

"Mike, how's Steve?" the captain asked. "You don't look like you've slept a wink."

"I was at the hospital for quite some time last night," Mike looked worn through. "But I finally went home and got a few hours of sleep. Steve had a setback, but was doing better when I left."

"Oh, no. What happened?"

"Well, he's developed an infection which still could become serious. In trying to treat it, they found that he's allergic to penicillin. And not just a slightly allergic - he's full blow allergic to it," Mike held his thumb and forefinger close and then swept his arms for effect. "He went into anaphylactic shock and stopped breathing."

"Good Lord. But they caught that and he's okay, right?"

"Yes, they caught it quickly, so I don't think more harm has been done. The bad thing there is that he's on a breathing tube and will be for the next forty-eight hours. They don't want to see a relapse and instead want the medicine to work its way completely through to be sure. But, it's hard to see him like that."

"Where is he now?"

"I called this morning and he was still in ICU. They are going to keep him stabilized and lightly sedated until the breathing tube is out and his fever breaks. Before, he was in a lot of pain, and with that and the fever, the doctor is still concerned. There could be a complication with the wound in his side. He may need to go back into surgery."

"Mike, I'm sorry to hear this. I know you said at one point that he doesn't have any family. I know the guys here will have no problem in taking turns staying at the hospital and keeping vigil until he's turned the corner."

Mike nodded as Rudy wondered silently what he could do for his long time friend. The two men had shared good and bad times for over thirty years. Rudy was there for Mike's important milestones: his marriage to Helen, Jeannie's birth and his promotion to detective. He was also there when Helen died from breast cancer a half dozen years earlier and when he lost his first partner, Gus Charvnoski just a short time ago. Rudy prayed that Mike would not lose another partner, especially someone whose life was mostly in front of him.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Mike entered his office and was quickly joined by Detective Bill Tanner, who provided a current status of the investigation after inquiring about Steve.

"We have an APB out based on the description that you provided. We also have a couple of witnesses who saw a late model dark blue Buick leaving the scene hurriedly after the shooting. No plates, but we are checking the rental car companies."

"Good," Mike nodded.. "It's a long shot, but it's with the try."

"We're also making a second sweep of the area now."

Mike listened and then shook his head. "The fact that the shooter called me by name," Mike continued, "puzzles me. I didn't recognize him at all. And he was so bold to shoot and then run like that. He had no fear of being recognized."

"It was professionally executed. The guy knew whom he was going to hit, had the distraction lined up and had a way out. He just didn't count on Steve pushing Spagnozzi out of the way. What did Steve see, Mike, that tipped him off?"

"I don't know," the older detective replied. "I hope to be able to ask him that at some point."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

It was just shortly after noon when the call came through. A housekeeper at the Stratton motel found a body in the tub, apparently electrocuted. A description matched that of the shooter.

Mike grabbed Tanner and they headed over to the motel. Mike had a strange feeling about this turn of events. He called over to one of his other men, Detective Dan Healy. "Healy, get a hold of Officer James Foster. He should be at home recovering from the shot in his hand. See if he can meet us at the Stratton motel."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Tanner pulled into the motel parking lot. An ambulance was there along with several police and rescue vehicles. Looking up at the balcony of the second floor, it was clearly apparent which room had the activity. Near the outside door, a visibly shaken housekeeper was delivering her statement to police. Several other policemen were combing the area around the room.

Mike entered first and saw a stretcher with the victim under the blanket. A police officer recognized the lieutenant.

"We just pulled him from the tub, but not before the lab boys got pictures. They are taking samples from the water too. No ID or wallet, but we did find other personal belongings."

Mike nodded and walked over to the stretcher. He took a deep breath before lifting the blanket from the victim's head. Viewing a dead body was not anything Mike got used to. It always made him queasy simply because he knew that underneath was someone's son or daughter.

Upon viewing the body, Mike had to think. The man he saw the day before was fully clothed with a hat. This body was nude with wet matted hair and blue lips. But he saw the facial structure, which was the same. He flashed back and remembered coming face to face with the would-be killer.

Mike remembered back and recalled the gunman's brown eyes as he spoke directly to him the day before after shooting Steve and Spags. Mike shook himself into the presence and lifted the eyelids of the corpse. He could see a partial of the eyes that were now rolled upward. They were the same brown.

"This could be him," Mike said, somewhat shocked, as he replaced the blanket.

Minutes later Jim Foster arrived. "Jim," Mike called out. "Take a look and tell me what you think," he said as he motioned toward the corpse.

Officer Foster walked to stretcher and lifted the same blanket. He went pale as he nodded to the senior officer. When lifting the blanket, Foster cringed. "I think that's him. Wait a minute…," Foster stopped. "When he had his arm around my throat, I remember now, that he had a thick copper bracelet on. Have we found that?"

"You mean, one like this?" Tanner came walking out of the bathroom with the bracelet precariously balanced on the edge of a pen.

"That's it!" Foster replied.

"Well," Mike commented, "looks like we got the shooter. Question is: who got him?"

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Mike and Tanner interviewed the motel clerk and the poor, shaken housekeeper. The room was rented to a John Smith, which was clearly an alias. The clerk said she saw two men enter the room after they checked in and one of the men was clearly the decedent. This led the detectives to conclude that there definitely were two involved in the crime. One monitored each of the two entrances to the courthouse. Depending on where Spagnozzi and the police entered, the other man would provide a distraction and drive the getaway car.

"Did you get a license plate number on the car when they registered?" Tanner asked.

"I'll check the registration card," the clerk responded. Moments later she returned with the card. "No license plate, but they did write down the make and model of the car. It's a blue Buick Century. They wrote the state, but no plate number."

"Thank you both," Mike responded with a kind smile.

As they walked out of the motel lobby, Mike patted Tanner's shoulder.

"So, what do we have?" Mike asked aloud and then answered. "We have undoubtedly the dead shooter, but no name or identity as yet. We have some personal effects, including a copper bracelet. And we've got a car description that probably matches several hundred cars in the bay area."

"We can take prints from the body and see if we can run it against records. Maybe even try to match it against the FBI database. We might get some prints from the motel room or his personal effects that are the other guy's. Or we might be able to match the shooter to our mug shots. Chances are this guy has a prior arrest record." Tanner added as he got into the car.

"All right, then, let's get back to the station. We'll have Healy working on the car lead and you can see what you can get on the prints," Mike reasoned wearily.

Tanner looked at the older detective and could see something underlying his expression. "We can stop by the hospital on the way back to the station. It's right on the way," Tanner suggested helpfully..

Mike looked down and nodded his head. "I'd like that, Bill. Thanks."


	7. Chapter 7

Mike and Bill exited the elevator and made their way to the ICU. Bill was first to see Rudy and Lenny in the waiting area sitting near the window. He nudged Mike and directed his boss their way. Rudy stood up and addressed Mike.

"We heard you were on your way over from Dispatch, Mike. Steve's had another setback and they're prepping him for surgery," he reported a bit too anxiously. His delivery struck Mike like a Mack truck.

Lenny jumped in with his typically calm voice. "Steve's fever continued to edge up a bit. The doctor thinks it might be an abscess."

Rudy continued, "They are just waiting for an operating room to open up. You might be able to see him before he goes up there," he said while pointing to the ICU.

Mike turned without a word and went back to the partitioned area where he had been the night before. He recognized the nurse on duty and nodded her way. "Lieutenant Stone, the doctor was trying to call you. Can you wait in Steve's area for a few minutes?"

"Sure," Mike replied, uncertain and somewhat apprehensive for what the doctor might say. Steve had no one on his personnel record listed as family. As a result, with Mike being his partner and boss, he was considered the de facto next of kin. No blood relative would feel any more concerned than Mike did at that moment.

Mike tentatively moved the curtain back into Steve's area, uncertain what he would find. He partner lay motionless with eyes closed, breathing softly through the tube. He was not flat on his back, but instead propped in a way which elevated the side where he was shot. Flushed, a light sheen of sweat covered his skin.

Mike rested his hand on Steve's arm and was stunned at the heat. He instinctively placed his hand on the young man's forehead and realized that he was much warmer than even the night before.

At that moment, the doctor walked in. "Oh, good. I'm glad you're here," he said to Mike. "I'm afraid we're going to need to take Steve back to the OR. I'm suspicious he has an abscess and it's probably near the injured kidney. We need to do some exploratory surgery to confirm. If it's there, I should be able to remove it, and then clean and reseal the wound.

Mike's brow furrowed at the news. "Oh, I understand. Before you came in, I…well, he feels so hot. What's his temperature been running?"

"Our last check was right around 104. It keeps getting higher. I wanted to let the antibiotics kick in and do their thing, but we are to a point where need to take action. We're getting ready to take him now."

The doctor continued. "Generally, this wouldn't be a problem, but he is in a weakened state. I'll let you know how it goes after the surgery. Will someone be around for me to talk to after the surgery?"

"Yes, it will be me or someone from my team."

"That's fine. You may want to go up to the surgical waiting room so we can talk afterward."

"Sure," Mike said as he looked around the room. "Thank you."

He then looked back at Steve and patted him on the arm one more time. "You hang in there, Buddy boy. We're pulling for you." He gave his arm one last squeeze. It saddened him to see that the young man could not respond.

Mike walked back to the others and explained the situation. Rudy thought it best to go back with Tanner and follow the leads from the motel. Lenny decided to stay with Mike to hear how the surgery went. As department psychiatrist, Lenny thought he'd take the opportunity to see how the older detective was handling the aftermath of Steve's shooting and the investigation.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Vic Spagnozzi hit the streets to find out who might have hired the hitman to kill his brother. The most obvious theory was that the attacker was brought in by someone related to the Livingston case. Vic knew that the Spagnozzi family and the Livingstons had 'clients' in common. Vic also knew that some of those clients had their ears to the ground but would be reluctant to talk. Still, people hear 'things' and Vic would try his best to finesse answers from even the tightest of lips.

Vic walked into Barney's Friendly Pub and Grill, an establishment well known to the underground and police alike. While a popular spot for locals, it also was the front for a profitable book running operation. One of the bookies was Frankie Winslow, an older English gentleman.

Frankie was on good terms with Vic - they went back years. Like old friends, they greeted each other accordingly.

"Frankie, have you heard anything about someone putting out a contract on Charlie?"

"It was Charlie I heard about on the news?," the Englishman asked. "I'm so sorry. And so soon after your Danny-boy was killed."

"You're a good friend, Frankie. Yeah, it's been rough," Vic nodded in agreement. "What about a contract? What have you heard?"

"I heard that old lady Livingston didn't want her boys to go down for your son's death. She said that her boys were reacting in self-defense, but that Charlie was going to say otherwise."

"The evidence says otherwise, too. It wasn't just Charlie."

"But he was the only witness to the altercation. Without him, the old woman figures there's not much of a case."

Vic nodded his head. "So what'd you hear? Did she bring someone in?"

"Yeah, two guys from LA. They are goons from their drug supplier. Both not long out of jail for attempted murder. There's the main guy - don't know his name, but he had basically pulled another guy in for a cut. I heard they were roommates back in the pen."

"No names?" Vic inquired.

"No, but I'll keep snooping around. What kind of deal can we cut for the next set of races?" Frankie asked.

"You get me names and I'll double your cut on the next Saturday run. Got it?" Vic responded. He knew the routine.

"Got it, Vic," Frankie winked. With his connections, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he found out the names of the pair.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

"Can I get you some coffee, Mike?" Lenny offered as the pair made their way over to the Surgery waiting area. Mike had gone quiet since seeing Steve in the ICU and the psychiatrist wanted to break the ice.

"No, nothing for me," Mike responded just a little harsher than intended.

Once seated, Lenny turned to Mike. "They do very good work here."

No response.

"I think you know I interned here many years ago when I first got out of med school. Top notch facility."

Still no response.

"Mike, he's in good hands. It will be okay." Lenny finally tried offering hope.

"He shouldn't have to be in anyone's hands right now. This never should have happened." Mike's anger was once again bubbling.

"Of course he _shouldn't_ be here. But he wasn't given much of a choice. The gunman…"

Mike interrupted. "There were four of us escorting, Charlie Spagnozzi. Four! No one should have had the balls to approach four cops in broad daylight and do what that maniac did. He didn't care that there were witnesses to what he was doing - not to mention that those witnesses were cops. He called me by name! How blatant could he have been?"

"But now, the shooter is dead. What do you think happened there?"

Mike surmised, "Well, it certainly wasn't any of the good guys. I couldn't even get a shot off when he had Foster by the neck. No, either it was his partner or perhaps whoever hired him. Maybe he had already been paid. Money is usually the motive with this type of scum."

The pair sat in silence.

"I let Steve down. I didn't protect him," Mike began to grieve. "It's my job to make sure that he's okay and to have his back."

"Mike, you can't anticipate every crackpot in this city or every action that they can possibly take. This was a professional hit. It wasn't your fault."

"No, but maybe someone else would have seen what Steve saw. Maybe someone else would have been more focused and quicker to react," Mike asserted. His tone softened. "Maybe the day has come when I should think about leaving the streets."


	8. Chapter 8

**a/n **Gus Charvnoski was Mike's former partner who was killed in the "30Year Pin" episode, which aired early in season one.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

It was late in the afternoon when Detective Bill Tanner got a call from the Medical Examiner's office. Jim Carson worked for the ME and had been involved in several recent homicide investigations. Ten years into his job, he still found forensic science to be fascinating, especially as new discoveries advanced his profession ostensibly every week.

One of the latest advances involved a better way of capturing fingerprints and developing images for electronic transmission to other police agencies. Jim took fingerprint copies of the body found at the motel and sent to several agencies, both locally and outside of the Bay area. The images were transmitted via telex and the receiving agencies would then try to match the prints by type and category.

But this time, a headshot of a corpse accompanied the fingerprint transmittal. With both images, the office was hopeful to get an identification quickly. It took very little time for the Department of Corrections to contact Jim Carson.

They advised of a possible match to one Gregory Harmon, age thirty six, late of Folsom Prison. He had been released less than six months earlier. His parole officer, Bruce Keith, was based in Sacramento. The DOC sent a copy of Harmon's prints from his arrest record to Carson for a cross match. The results were positive.

Bill called Bruce Keith to get a full report on Harmon since his parole release. Unemployed, Harmon had been attending classes in a vocational training program part time in Sacramento. Several parolees took this type of training, so it was not uncommon for a parole officer to have an established relationship with the vo-tech school. A quick call to the school confirmed that Harmon had missed the last three days.

But a big break in the case happened when the school official commented that Harmon's attendance record paralleled that of another recent parolee. Chuck Taylor had also been absent the last three days. Bill requested that the parole officer follow-up on the location of Taylor.

Bill hung up the phone with a feeling of accomplishment. He now had a positive ID on the body found at motel and a potential lead on the accomplice.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

"You can't be serious, Mike," Lenny stated. "Are you saying you're going to hang it up?"

"Damn it, Lenny. They were shot right in front of me. This was my deal - I was the one who worked on the logistics of escorting Charlie Spagnozzi to the trial. It stops with me." Mike's response was tinged with anger as he paced back and forth in the waiting room.

"You weren't the one that shot Steve or Spags," Lenny raised his voice, but quickly lowered it. He sat with legs crossed watching the older detective pacing. "As it looks right now, there was a professional hit ordered against Spags. Are you saying you are responsible for that?"

"No, I'm saying that I was responsible for ensuring the safety of Spagnozzi as well as the accompanying police officers. I was unable to deliver on that responsibility."

"Mike, this is ridiculous. You feel guilty - all cops do when this happens." Lenny reasoned. Mike would have none of it and shook his head.

Lenny continued, "Mike, there is case study after case study that speaks to the guilt that a cop feels after a partner is shot. And this, coming so soon after Gus was killed. You feel guilty about that too, don't you?"

"I've always felt guilty about Gus," Mike admitted quietly as he sat next to Lenny. "He taught me everything I knew, yet I was the one who was promoted. He spent nearly thirty years out on the damned street walking a beat. One week away from retirement - that's all he needed."

"But Mike, you weren't the reason he wasn't promoted."

"I'm not so sure about that. I had a break or two when I was a beat cop. One case I worked on was high profile and got the attention of the seniors who were making promotional recommendations. Gus was passed over for me."

"Did Gus hold that against you?"

"No, he was too good of a friend."

"But, ultimately you feel that because Gus was still on the street, you are somewhat responsible for his death?"

The gruffness was apparent in Mike's voice, "Lenny, I'm not stupid. I know that I'm really not responsible, but 'knowing' and 'feeling' are two different things. There are times when I do feel responsible for Gus and what happened to him."

"What about Steve?" Lenny inquired.

"I _always_ feel responsible for Steve."

"Why do you _always_ feel responsible for Steve?"

"You're analyzing me, Lenny. Stop analyzing me," Mike was annoyed.

"Answer my question, Mike," Lenny commanded. "Why do you feel responsible for Steve?"

"Because he's my partner."

"But there's something different. Is it because he's still so young?"

Mike gave a small smile. "We started getting recruits from Berkeley five years ago. I never thought that I'd have one of them working for me so soon. But it's been over two years now already," Mike recalled. "Lenny, I'm old enough to be his father and then some. I'm also his mentor and I know he looks up to me. It's just different than with the guys who work for me and are of at least the same generation."

"So, are you telling me that maybe you don't want Steve working for you anymore?"

Mike was silent in thought with that question. A minute passed and then he answered quietly. "No. Not at all. In some ways, Lenny, he's the best partner I ever had. He's smart, a quick thinker and very likeable. Extremely likeable," Mike corrected. "He has good ideas. And he has my back. I couldn't ask for a better partner."

"Then what is it?"

"I've failed him." Mike's voice shook at the revelation.

"Do you think Steve would say that?"

Mike chuckled at the question. Steve was very loyal to Mike and the older detective knew it. "No, he wouldn't."

"Damn straight, Mike. He would never for a moment think that you were at fault here. And you know what he'd say if he thought you would turn in your badge over this?"

"No, Lenny, what would he say?" Mike was half humoring the psychologist.

"He'd say, 'What did I do wrong?'" Lenny replied with a pointed finger tapped into to Mike's shoulder. "That's what he'd say. He'd feel guilty that he drove his mentor away."

Mike sat silently and then broke. "That's utterly ridiculous. There'd be no reason for him to feel guilty about me leaving."

"Just as it's utterly ridiculous for you to feel so guilty about the shooting that you would leave the department and him behind."

Mike looked over at Lenny and cocked an eyebrow.

Lenny continued. "You know I'm right on this. Mike, I believe that Steve is going to pull through this. I also believe that he's going to have a long road back both physically and emotionally. He's going to need you every step of the way. Don't you dare abandon him now."

Mike nodded his head, and the pair fell into silence. Minutes grew and suddenly two hours had passed.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

The doctor walked through the swinging doors from the operating area. "Lieutenant Stone, I can give you an update on Mr. Keller. Let's go to my office."

Lenny and Mike followed the doctor dutifully into his office which was a short walk from the OR area. As each step was taken, Mike braced himself further for any news, whatever it might be. He was grateful for Lenny being there, too.

As the three men entered the office, the doctor pointed to two guest chairs and shut the door behind them.

"Well?" Lenny asked as he sat down.

The doctor replied, "We found where the laceration on the kidney was draining. That was the underlying cause of the abscess. The abscess was rather large, but we were able to take care of that as well as repair the kidney. He should be feeling much better after the initial soreness from the surgery wears off."

"Thank God," Mike exhaled. "So what's next?"

"Mr. Keller is in a very weakened state. I don't need to remind you that he's had two gunshot wounds, a skull fracture, and is recovering from a near fatal allergic reaction to penicillin. In addition to that, he's been in surgery twice and is still intubated. All within little more than twenty four hours. While I feel better about his condition than I did this morning, he's still got a long way to go."

Lenny remembered the infection. "What about the antibiotics and the original infection? Was that all contained within the abscess?"

"Yes, just about. For the record, the antibiotics did do some good despite being of a weaker class. While they did nothing to control the abscess itself, the drugs did appear to keep the infection from going any further"

"You said his temperature was quite high..." Mike began to ask.

"When we checked his vitals at the start of surgery, it had hit 105. That made the surgery fairly risky, but we didn't see that we had any choice. His body was working overtime fighting the abscess. If the infection had become systemic, I don't think he'd have much of a chance," the doctor added.

"Sounds like it was a very close call," Lenny concluded.

"Indeed," replied the doctor. "But with quite a bit of rest and lots of fluids, we should start seeing an improvement in the next day or two."

"That long?" Mike asked. "How long will he be in the hospital?"

"If all goes well, maybe two more weeks."


	9. Chapter 9

**The Next Day**

Charlie Spagnozzi was recovering just two floors below Steve Keller. Registered as Charlie Smith, he had a police guard outside his door twenty four hours a day. While sore for his gunshot wound and the subsequent fall, Spags was making a solid recovery. Spags faced six months in San Quentin for a parole violate, but his current situation confined to a hospital bed left him oddly content. While eating his lunch, he watched the mid-day news.

"_A body, recovered yesterday at the Fairway Motel, has been identified as that of Gregory Harmon of Sacramento. Harmon, 36, was found after an apparent electrocution in the motel bathtub. Police consider the death suspicious. _

_Harmon was recently seen in the company of Charles A. Taylor, also of Sacramento. Mr. Taylor, 42, is considered a person of interest by police. Taylor is six feet tall, one hundred eighty pounds with graying hair. Any one who has information concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Taylor is asked to contact police immediately."_

Side by side photos of Harmon and Taylor were presented on the television screen following the broadcast.

Charlie Spagnozzi stared at the television mid-chew. He picked up the phone and called his brother.

"Vic, are you watching the news?"

"No, what's going on?" the brother responded.

"This guy they are talking about…he was electrocuted at the Fairway Motel. I think he's the guy who shot me."

"Are you sure?"

"Not quite - it happened so fast. But the report said the police are investigating a suspicious death at a motel over near the courthouse. His name is Gregory Harmon. There was another guy they are looking for - a Charles A. Taylor. See what you can find out."

Charlie hung up the phone as Stone walked in with Tanner not far behind.

"Mike, good to see you. How's your boy doing?"

Mike sighed. "The doctors operated again and he got through it all right. If he can knock this infection, he should be okay."

"Well, my family's thoughts and prayers are with you both. All of you guys," he said as he looked over to Bill. "You guys do your duty. I know it's thankless."

"Ironic words coming from you, but thanks, Spags. How are you doing?" Mike said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Okay," he nodded tentatively, "I'll live. Have you found anything out? Any leads?"

Mike looked over to the television. "Haven't you been watching the news?"

"It's been on."

"Too bad you haven't been watching closely. I was hoping you had seen the news so you could identify this guy," the detective said as he pulled out a photo. "Seen him before?"

"Besides the day I was shot? No."

"So, are you telling me that's the shooter?"

"It happened quickly, Mike, but yes. That's him. What's his story?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. Does the name Gregory Harmon or Charles Taylor mean anything to you?"

"No, not yet at least."

"What's that supposed to mean, Charlie?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just anxious to find out who's behind this…as if I don't already know."

"We don't know anything yet and whatever we find out, we need to follow the process."

Spags said nothing but gave the detectives a smirk.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

As Mike and Bill left the hospital, the older detective noted, "Bill, I think we've shook things up a bit today."

"I'm not sure how much more 'shaking up', I can take, Mike," Tanner said with a half smile. "Between the case, the body in the tub and what has happen to Steve, I feel like we're in one big aftershock."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Mike said quietly. "But what I meant was with the news release. I think quite a few people know that something happened to our suspected shooter. Spags, his people, Taylor, and whoever hired Harmon. Now, we need to watch who makes a move."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

Mrs. Livingston answered the phone. "Hello, who is this?"

"A friend of a friend," replied the voice on the line.

"Who is this?" Mrs. Livingston persisted.

"I'm a buddy of Greg Harmon's. I was helping him out on the job you had him doing. He's dead now and everyone is looking for me. I need some cash so I can get away from here - out of the country to where there's no extradition."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, lady. I need one hundred thousand dollars in twenties, fifties and hundreds. You give that to me and you're home free. We did the hit. Unfortunately, Greg ran into some bad luck and now the cops are after me. I was even on the noon news. If I don't get out of here, I'll get caught. And if I get caught, I'm going to make some deals with the cops."

Mrs. Livingston was floored and had to think quickly. "I can't raise that money very quickly. I'll need time."

"You have until tomorrow at 10am. You meet me at a public place. How about in front of the chocolate factory? I like chocolate. Meet me there at ten with a briefcase with the cash."

"How will I know you?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll find you. You'll be the older woman with a briefcase who will look like she's searching for someone."

"How do I know that you'll leave me alone after that?"

"The cops will be looking for me at the local airport. I'm thinking that I need to go elsewhere to catch a plane out of here. LA, maybe. You drive me down to LA and you can watch me board a plane for Brazil. You'll know. I have no desire to go back to the pen or to stay around here. I want cash and a way out."

"Very well, Mr. Taylor. Ten a.m. it is," the old woman replied.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

It was later that evening, when Mike returned to St. John's. He had stopped by to see his partner earlier in the day, but caught him mid-exam with the doctor. Not that he was ever alone during this time. The guys from the squad had decided to take turns staying nearby in case Steve had a relapse with the penicillin or a setback from his injuries. Mike appreciated how the group came together during such a rough time.

As he walked into the ICU, he was greeted by the nurse he had come to know over the past two days.

"He's doing better, Lieutenant. They removed the breathing tube earlier and his fever is down to low grade. They may move him out of ICU as early as tomorrow morning."

That stopped Mike dead in his tracks. "I think that's the best news I've heard in a very long time," he smiled. He quickly walked over to the partitioned area where Steve was and pulled back the curtain.

Mike couldn't tell if the young man was awake as he made his way to the bedside.

"Steve?" he asked quietly. "It's me, Mike. Are you with me?"

Steve opened his eyes slightly. "Hey," he said in a whisper as he reached his hand up. Mike grabbed a hold and squeezed.

"How are you feeling?" Mike asked as he quickly evaluated his partner's appearance. With the fever down, Steve no longer looked flushed. Instead, he was very pale. The dark circles under his eyes provided quite a contrast.

"O-kay," was the simple reply.

"Want to try again?" Mike asked, "On second thought, save your energy, Buddy boy. Just tell me if it hurts anywhere or if I should get the nurse."

Steve nodded slightly and then looked confused. "Mike, what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"You were shot. We were escorting Spags to the courthouse and all hell broke loose." Mike tried not to give too much away. If Steve were ever needed to testify about the occurrence, he needed to do it from his own memory. "Does it ring any bells?"

"No. Was anybody else hurt?"

"A couple of minor injuries, but nowhere near what you got. But you are doing better now. You are going to be okay."

Mike gave the young man an extra squeeze. It had been a long two days and while Steve's condition was still serious, the improvement gave Mike tremendous relief.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Next Day**

With a stroke of luck, Mrs. Livingston was able to park closely to the front of the chocolate factory. The factory was near the wharf and normally busy with tourists. It was the perfect place to meet Taylor - their business could be tended to hidden in plain sight.

With fifteen minutes to go before their planned meeting, the older woman, dressed in an elegant pantsuit, pulled the metal briefcase which sat on the passenger's side towards her. She looked through the front window of her Lincoln, not really knowing whom she was meeting but thinking that she might catch a glance of a solitary man looking for someone like her.

She sighed and rested her eyes for a brief moment. Mary Livingston thought back over the events of the last six months. Her husband had been dead only two years, stricken by a massive heart attack. Her two sons took over the gambling and racketeering businesses which ran from a variety of small shops - mostly bars, Laundromats and convenience stores. The sons began trading in drugs which added an unwanted element to the family business. The culture and climate changed with new and dangerous faces coming up from LA. How she despised the new developments.

Danny Spagnozzi had been the heir apparent to the Spagnozzi business. He tried to persuade the Livingstons that the shift to a drug trade was bad for everyone. His clients were running scared and Danny thought he could reason with his family's long time rivals. After all, there had always been professional respect, especially when Old Man Livingston ran things. The old man knew that between the two families, they were able to keep outsiders away from their businesses and their clients. There was more than enough money to go around in the gambling, protection and loan businesses.

But that respect ceased when the brothers took over. Charlie, who had tried to stop Danny from meeting the Livingstons on his own, followed his nephew to an abandoned Laundromat. Outside, he heard the shots. He ran to save Danny, but he was too late. Two shots in the face ended the young man's life.

But Charlie did at least see the Livingstons running out a side door after the murder. With much deliberation, Charlie and Vic Spagnozzi, Danny's father, decided to discreetly take their story to police. They quietly sought their old schoolmate's little brother from the Potrero and Mike diligently worked the case. The Livingston brothers were unceremoniously arrested and quickly indicted.

With their trial set and Spags as the sole witness, Mrs. Livingston tried her best to discredit the older man. She arranged for two of his old prison buddies to set up plans for a drink at a local tavern. Spags, while being a streetwise con, was also very social and thought nothing of the invitation. Shortly before the ex-cons were due to arrive at the bar, she placed a call to the police and to his parole officer alerting them that their con was consorting with other ex-cons. The police had no choice but to arrest Spags.

She could have waited out to see how a Quentin-bound ex-con's testimony would fly with a jury. Instead, she was nervous that the worst would happen and that her beloved boys would go to jail for murder. She took matters into her own hands and called on an old friend of her husband's, Dietrich Harmon. Dietrich's nephew was fresh out of Folsom and looking for a job. Dietrich recommend Greg to Mrs. Livingston.

She shook herself back to reality. No matter what happened, she knew there was little she could do to change things. How could things have gone so terribly wrong? How could her sons have gone so bad? How could her hired gun killed not only her intended victim, but also a young police detective?

She knew with the death of the policeman, the local authorities would be relentless to find out who hired the killers. While Taylor figured it best to leave town, she did as well. She decided to take Taylor to LA to catch a plane to Brazil with no arguments. While she hated the idea of leaving her sons, she, too, had her bags packed for places beyond Los Angeles.

The woman continued to look for her contact, but to no avail. Finally, at 10 am, Mrs. Livingston exited the driver's side with briefcase in hand.

Tanner watched her actions as he sat in the driver's side of the unmarked Ford LTD. which was parked about three hundred feet from the factory entrance. "Mike should be here any minute," he said to Lessing seated next to him. "Let's wait a moment and see whom she meets."

The pair had taken their turn as Mrs. Livingston's tail earlier that morning. From the get-go, she was at the top of the suspect list as someone who may be involved with the shooting. Her motive was quite clear. The detectives saw the older woman loading two pieces of luggage in her car and correctly concluded that she was about to make a move.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF **

"Mrs. Livington, I presume?" Taylor said with an odd smirk. Nothing was funny to the woman as she addressed the man coldly.

"Mr. Taylor?"

"Do you have the money, ma'am?"

"Yes, I do. It's right here. I'm certain that you don't want to open this case in such a public place, but you will have to believe that it's all here."

"Splendid. I believe I mentioned that I would like a ride to Los Angeles. Are you prepared to oblige?"

"Yes," she answered coolly. "We can leave right now. But what assurances do I have that you won't shoot me half way down there and steal my car?"

"You really don't have any assurances, but understand that we are both guilty of murder. I don't think either one of us will be going to the police. I really don't view you as much of a threat. Besides, you remind me of my own mother," he replied sarcastically. Taylor looked around, "Shall we?" he asked as he offered her his arm.

She glared at him and walked her own way. "My car is over here."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF **

Mike saw the exchange from afar, as he looked through his binoculars. "Boys, I think we have found Charles A. Taylor. Let's move in," he called in through the radio.

Mike exited his Galaxy which was up the block from the factory, while Lessing and Tanner came from the other side.

The trio had quickly closed the distance between themselves and the pair when, out of nowhere, Vic Spagnozzi cornered Taylor and Mrs. Livingston.

"You filthy scum. Both of you are coming with me." It was clear to the pair that Spagnozzi had a gun, which was pointed their way through the pocket of his raincoat. "You," Vic said as he look at Taylor. You get in the driver's side of her car. And you," he shifted his glare to Mrs. Livingston, "you get in the back seat and keep your damn mouth shut."

Mike, Tanner and Lessing quickened their pace until they were only a few feet away from the trio. They drew their guns but withheld fire.

"Vic," Mike called out. "Vic Spagnozzi. Don't move," he commanded.

"Stone," Vic recognized the older detective immediately. "This is the other dirt bag who was behind the shooting of my brother and your partner."

"I know that, Vic. Tell me, what are you planning to do here?"

"I planned to take care of him and Mrs. Livingston. It was her boys who did Danny in."

"Come on, Vic. Let's not do anything illegal, okay? Just turn them over to us and it will be okay."

"What are you going to do with them, Stone? Can you guarantee me that they'll pay for what they did?"

"I normally won't guarantee anything, but you have my word - after what they did to your brother and my partner, I will see to it that they pay."

Taylor became edgy and looked around for a way to escape. He had his gun and figured he could grab the old lady as a hostage, then take her car. It was his only way out. Anything was better than returning to Folsom. He had a chance at $120,000 and Brazil. He was going to take that chance now or die trying.

Taylor pulled the gun from his waistband and grabbed Mrs. Livingston. "Don't say a word. Just slip your car keys in my pocket," he whispered in her ear. "And hang on to that briefcase until I tell you to let go."

She gasped and then allowed herself to be guided backward to the car as Taylor had his gun at her side. Onlookers quickly cleared the way.

"Don't do it, Taylor. If you stop now and give yourself up, it will be easier for you. Don't add kidnapping, grand theft auto and resisting arrest to your charges," Mike tried to reason.

"I didn't kill the cop. You have to understand that was not the plan," Taylor shouted back. "The contract was on the old man, Charles Spagnozzi. It was Harmon who screwed everything up. No one else was supposed to be killed or injured."

"Taylor," Mike looked at him sternly. "Spagnozzi and the detective are both alive. You will not be charged with their murders."

The look on Mrs. Livingston's face was priceless. She did not know whether to be relieved or angry at the news that Harmon and Taylor did not complete the job.

Taylor thought for a moment, but then realized that it didn't matter. He wasn't even sure if he believed Stone. At best, Taylor had still attempted two kill two men, including a police officer. And he did indeed rob and kill another man, Greg Harmon. He figured it was a matter of time before that fact was proven.

"Give me the briefcase, now," he whispered to Mrs. Livingston. He dropped his hand from her neck and grabbed the handle. Simultaneously he threw the old woman to the ground and aimed his gun at Mike.

The loud crack of the gun's report momentarily brought everything to a standstill.


	11. Chapter 11

It was happening in slow motion. Mary Livingston felt the arm around her neck and the gun in her side. She was dragged to her own car, and her two inch heels would not cooperate. She awkwardly tilted side to side while Taylor kept her balance as he grasped her neck. The hot whisper in her ear, "Don't say a word…" was the only thing she heard.

She focused her gaze on the face of Mike Stone and saw lines of worry and concern as his gun was pointed her way. He would not fire or she would be killed. She read a feeling of helplessness and frustration in his expression. She knew that she was the root of the recent trouble and yet, she now looked to the detective as an ally and lifeline.

As Taylor snatched the suitcase, he thrust Mrs. Livingston forward until she fell hard on her knees. Her body could not stop its momentum and she landed flatly on her stomach. The surface was an uneven sidewalk, save for a patch of dirt reserved for landscaping along the walkway.

Struggling to roll over and sit up, she could hear jumbled sounds of activity over her which was followed by a simultaneous blunt thud and a loud gunshot. Her face stung immediately and she felt a wetness on her cheek. As she examined her right hand, Mary saw the red substance on her fingers.

"Oh," she said as her vision turned to grey.

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

"Tanner, check the woman," Mike ordered as he ran over to Taylor and Vic Spagnozzi, both of whom were down by the side of the car.

"Grab Taylor before he tries to make a getaway," Mike commanded as Lessing pulled the handcuffs from his belt. Lessing flipped Taylor on his stomach and quickly cuffed the killer. "Book him on two counts of attempted murder and one count of attempted kidnapping for starters. I am certain we will find out more as we get further on with the Harmon investigation."

Lessing nodded and read Taylor his rights.

Mike continued, "Oh, and give Arnie at the DA's office a call. He came shortly after the shooting and helped me with Steve. I'm sure he'll have an opinion on what charges we can file."

Taylor grimaced.

Mike redirected his attention to Vic Spagnozzi, who was lying nearby.

"What the hell were you doing there, Vic?" Mike was still shocked at the sight of the older man tackling Taylor as the killer had his sites set on Mike.

"This old boy's still got it, Mike," Vic said half chuckling and half groaning. "I knocked that bastard off his feet."

Vic had indeed slammed his body into the gun-toting Taylor. The gun discharged and the lone bullet hit the concrete near Mary Livingston resulting in shards of the material hitting her face.

"You took a big risk there, Vic. Why? He wasn't going to get very far."

"I didn't want to see him have the chance. Besides, he had the gun pointed at you."

"Yes, and my men and I had our guns on him. We damn near could have shot you, you know?" Mike's exasperation with the older man was showing as he helped the old man to his feet. "Besides, how's that going to sound to the guys back at the Potrero? You were protecting a cop…"

"You had my back too, Mike. I know that. You were giving me an out to let me turn those two over to you."

"That's between you and I…" Mike said as he lowered his voice.

"It was for your partner. I'll never forget what that kid did. Mother of God, I hope he comes through this okay," Vic continued as Mike's expression turned solemn. "I went to see him, yesterday - just for a few minutes. I told the nurses and the police officer on duty that I was family…"

Mike interrupted, "What? How did you get away…"

"I'm just like Charlie. We're conmen, Mike. I could sell ice to the Eskimos," he smiled at the cop. "At any rate, I did see him. He was in a bad way. Such a young guy and at that point, very sick. High fever and he couldn't breath right…plus he was in a lot of pain."

Vic continued. "I thought to myself, here's a young guy with his life ahead of him. And he throws himself in the way of two bullets that had my brother's name on them. He didn't have to do that."

"That's what he's trained to do, Vic." Mike responded unemotionally.

"That may be right, Michael. But I guess that's the point. Charlie and I trained ourselves to run cons, facilitate gambling and enforce protection while keeping one step ahead of the law. All of this was done in the name of the almighty dollar. That kid is trained to, what's the expression, 'protect and serve'. It's what you all do. But he protected and saved my brother. I owed him for that."

Mike nodded as Vic continued. "There may be no code of honor among thieves anymore, but I thought perhaps I could honor what he did."

Mike slapped Vic on the back and commented quietly. "Thanks, I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

Mike looked over to Tanner. "How is the woman?"

"She's coming around. Lessing called in an ambulance and back-ups. I think she may have broken her knee when she fell."

"Is she shot?"

"No, but I see where the bullet hit the concrete. I think she got hit by some pieces."

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

"Man, do we have a lot of paperwork to get caught up on," Tanner said to Lessing as they waited at the hospital. "I'll let Mike know that we're going back and get a head start. You got Taylor booked okay?"

"Yep, he's all snug in a holding cell. Hey, after you're done with Mike, meet me down at Steve's room. We can at least pay a visit to him now that he's out of ICU."

Tanner walked into the emergency room where Mrs. Livingston was. She was dressed only in a hospital gown and had her left leg in a splint. A police guard was posted outside and a matron was in attendance for Mike's protection as much as Mrs. Livingston's.

Mike appeared to be in mid-conversation. "Mrs. Livingston, I need to explain to you that you are under arrest. You'll be allowed a call when you get to your hospital room and then the phone will be removed. An officer will be posted to your door at all times."

The older woman nodded. "He's really alive, isn't he? Charlie Spagnozzi really wasn't killed."

"Yes, ma'am, he is alive and fortunately for you, he is well on his way to a full recovery."

"He'll be able to testify against my boys at some point in the near future," she said sadly.

"No ma'am. Actually, while you were in X-Ray, I got word that he was escorted back to the courthouse and the testimony has already occurred."

The old woman's expression hardened. "I guess it's all over then."

"No, Mrs. Livingston, it's not. I suspect in some ways it's only just begun. After the verdict is read, your sons may be at the beginning of a very long prison term. And you are at the beginning of a very long legal process yourself. And my partner, who just came out of ICU, is about to begin a long road to recovery," Mike's voice became more emotional when reminded of what Steve was going to be enduring the next few weeks. "No, Mrs. Livingston, thanks to you and your sons, this is just the beginning."

_Epilogue should be posted in the next few days…_


	12. Epilogue

A/N: This is an example of how two stories can start off so vastly different and end up nearly at the same place without either author knowing what the other was doing.

If you've read Hamtor's wonderful "Forever and a Day", you will know that she posted her final chapter before I posted this epilogue. I read her final chapter and was amazed at the similarity of dialogue in certain spots. I PM'd her and we shared a nice laugh. I decided not to change or alter the ending of mine. I'd rather this stand as an example of how writing for particular fandoms and genres (especially when you whack one of the main characters) can have its similarities. J

**SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF**

**Epilogue…**

**Sixteen Days Later**

As the elevator opened to the fifth floor of St John's Hospital, Mike and Lenny reflected on the eighteen days since the shooting. The Livingston brothers had been convicted and sentenced to twenty five years to life for the death of Danny Spagnozzi. Mrs. Livingston and Chuck Taylor had been charged with a list of crimes and would soon be making their way through the judicial process. Taylor had been returned to Folsom pending trial. Charlie, too, was back in prison, although from what his brother Vic had relayed, considering the events of the last few weeks and a good word from Mike, the parole board was reconsidering.

"You told me that you couldn't understand how Greg Harmon knew your name at the shooting. Did you ever figure that out?" Lenny asked.

"Actually, I did. Mrs. Livingston and her husband go back to the old neighborhood. Years ago, she was Mary Kolkovic. She's about seventy now, but in her time, she was quite a fetching woman."

"So you remember her?"

"Mom returned to Gary, Indiana one summer during the Depression. Her father was ill and her mother needed the help, so she left me and my brother, Alex, with dad. Our family went to church with Mary's family. Mary was in her teens then, but she came over and helped out. She kept house and also babysat."

"Wait a minute, that woman was your baby sitter as a kid?" Lenny was surprised at this turn of events.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't have recognized her. She was married before she met Livingston, but the first husband died. I lost track of her after that. At any rate, she remembered me. She knew that Spags and Vic had gone to me to arrest her sons. Oddly enough, she didn't hold that against me. She told Harmon to just go after Spags, but no one else, especially me."

"It's good to have friends, I guess." Lenny mused as they rounded the corner to the final hallway.

They walked in silence. Their attention turned to Steve's pending release from the hospital. While the young man had made solid progress in his recovery, it was by no means easy.

Truth be told, it had been an absolute crap shoot. On any given visit, Steve could be in extreme pain, fatigued, or frustrated. Sometimes he'd be resting peacefully. Sometimes the pain medications left him a little dopey. Other times, he'd be watching television and eager to talk. The head injury contributed greatly to their worry as the headaches had been severe and the memory loss apparently included a span of time both before and after the shooting.

But, today was the day: he was allowed to go home. Mike and Lenny entered Steve's room to find him dressed in the clothes Mike brought the night before. His arm was in a sling from the shoulder wound. Lenny noted a degree of gauntness as the young man was sitting in the visitor's chair in the corner of the room. But there was nothing that could deter Steve's enthusiasm for going home.

"I spoke to his doctor this morning and got the take-home instructions," Lenny informed Mike. "A nurse should be by when he's ready to leave and we'll go through them again. I want to make sure that we're clear on what he needs in the coming weeks."

"That's good of you, Lenny. I want to make sure we have all the prescriptions in order, too."

_Mom and Dad,_ Steve thought humorously to himself.

"What did the doctor say?" Mike asked.

"He needs therapy on his shoulder. He'll have exercises he can do at home. They'll go through that, too."

_But which one is Mom?_, Steve pondered.

"What about the side wound?" Mike asked.

"Considering how bad that was for him, he's recovering quite nicely there. He'll need to go back for a check up a couple of times, but at this point the doctor was very happy with how that was healing."

"Good, but the head injury - what about the memory loss and headaches? That's been the most worrisome." Mike's brow furrowed with concern.

_Definitely Mom,_ Steve mused.

"Well, that's probably the one that we'll need to keep a good eye on. The headaches should be less frequent and less severe. I understand he is going back to his apartment. Mike, isn't there someone he can stay with?"

"You know, I am right here…" Steve stated wearily. Lenny turned, nodded his way and then continued speaking with Mike.

"Don't even get me started about that," Mike hissed.

Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. "I would prefer to just go home and rest in my own bed. I'll recover much quicker that way." He could feel Mike glaring at him, but kept his response targeted to Lenny. The partners had this same discussion the day before, with Mike insisting that Steve stay with him for a few days after his release. Steve politely but adamantly declined.

"What about the memory loss?" Mike changed the subject since he had already lost that battle.

"From what the neurologist can tell, he's lost a solid week. A few days before the shooting and a few days after. It may come back or it may not. I wouldn't worry too much about that. It's not uncommon considering the injury he had, and he's just going to have to accept that."

After a brief knock on the door, and the nurse entered the room with the discharge papers. _Thank goodness, _Steve welcomed an objective addition to the mix.

The nurse reviewed the therapy and discharge instructions and handed Mike additional prescriptions.

"I think that's everything," she stated, "I'll come back with a wheel chair in a few minutes."

"And I'll go get the car," Lenny added.

Mike and Steve were left alone.

"Mike," Steve said quietly. "Thanks for everything."

The annoyance that Mike felt toward his partner earlier disappeared. "What do you mean? I haven't done anything."

"You were here…quite a bit. I appreciate it. I know it wasn't easy, especially as you were trying to figure out who shot us."

"You had a lot of people pulling for you. I'll admit there were times when I was scared to death," he said as he looked at the floor. "Hey, that reminds me. I have something for you. It's from the guys in the squad." Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag.

"What is it?" Steve took the bag with his free hand and shook the contents until a silver bracelet fell onto his lap. "A bracelet? Guys don't normally buy guys jewelry, Mike."

"It's not just a bracelet, Hotshot. It's a medic alert bracelet for your intolerance to penicillin."

"Oh, yeah, they told me about that. I think it's on my "permanent" record or something."

"They _told _you? You don't remember what happened?"

Steve shook his head as he read the bracelet.

"You nearly died. I am not going to sugarcoat that. You need to understand that you have zero tolerance for anything that ends in 'cillin'."

"Yeah, that's what they said. You know, when I was a teenager, I got sick one time. It was mono," he said as he raised his eyebrows up and down.

"Figures." Mike said succinctly.

"Anyway, they gave me a shot of something and I got sick. I got hives or something. I just remember itching. But I don't remember getting like what I did this time." Steve tried to secure the bracelet around his wrist. With one arm in a sling, it was a formidable challenge.

"Let me tell you something, I don't ever, EVER, want to go through that again. You are going to wear that ID bracelet for the rest of your life. Do you understand? I am not always going to be two steps behind you telling people that you are prone to anaphylactic shock, damn it. Now give me your wrist."

"But then you'll have three," Steve deadpanned as he allowed Mike to put the alert tag around his wrist.

"Would you care to take this seriously? I can't believe you."

"Okay, okay, Mike. I get it. Believe me, I know it was close and I'll take it seriously. I just want to get back to normal life again."

"Well, normal life is going to include you remembering that you have a problem with…"

A knock on the door interrupted Mike's admonition.

"Hello?" the young woman peeked in tentatively. She saw Steve and smiled. "There you are. It looks like they are about to release you - so I won't keep you. I just found out that you in the hospital. I wanted to come by and see how you were."

Steve strained to recognize the woman. "I know you," he thought for a moment. "You're a friend of Rebecca's." He looked at Mike, "Rebecca is my neighbor."

"Yes, I'm Rachel. We met at the dinner party Rebecca had at her apartment. I hadn't seen her in a couple of weeks and then she told me that you had been hurt."

"Well, it's nice of you to come over." Steve continued to look at her very puzzled. There was something that wasn't adding up and then it struck him. "Oh, wait. I asked you out, didn't I? Oh, I'm sorry! I missed our date."

"You didn't miss it. We went out the night before you were shot."

"Oh," Steve was embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I'm still a little bit loopy from the events of that week."

"It's okay. Rebecca told me about it. No one knew that it had happened for days. Finally, I think one of your coworkers came around and let the neighbors know where you were."

"That's good," Steve thought for a moment. "Did we have a good time?"

"What?"

"On our date, did we have a good time?"

She smiled slyly, "Well, I can tell you that I did. I hope you did as well."

"Would you give me the opportunity to see for myself?" Steve winked and smiled.

"Oh, brother," Mike mumbled.

"Sure, when you are back on your feet, we can go again. Can I call you in the meantime to see if you need anything?"

"That'd be terrific."

Mike and Steve watched her leave as the nurse entered the room with the wheelchair. "Are you ready to go home, Steve?" the nurse asked with a smile.

"You bet, Sherri." Steve was slow to get up, but made it over to the wheelchair with the help of Mike and the nurse.

"A couple of the girls and I have worked out a schedule to where we can come by on our off hours and help you. All of us girls are pretty good cooks, too. We'll be happy to make you anything you want."

"You've got to be kidding me," Mike mumbled again.

"I appreciate that." Steve looked over to Mike and flashed a devilish grin. "The hospital food is never good. But I don't want you ladies to go out of your way."

"Oh, no! It will be our pleasure."

Mike shook his head and began pushing the wheelchair to the elevator. He knew full well why Steve wanted to go home directly. He'd have a parade of young women at his beck and call.

He smiled to himself. "Well, at least things will be getting back to normal."

**finis**


End file.
